


Only a Fool

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-14
Updated: 2007-05-14
Packaged: 2019-01-19 12:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Draco awaits the status of his fate as he goes to meet with Voldemort. Will he be regretful? Hateful? Resentful? Proud? [ONESHOT. READ&REVIEW. XD]





	Only a Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

** Only a Fool **

A black, solitary house stood in the middle of what seemed to be a desert. There was no light coming from inside and no sane person would ever dare to approach it. The land was barren; nothing lived around this dark house. The wind disturbed the dirt and the broken window shutters creaked. The sun was setting rapidly and night would soon be upon the two men who approached the house.

_What am I doing here?_ thought Draco Malfoy as he and Snape stopped in front of the house. _Stupid question. I know what I’m doing here. I’m going to be killed tonight._ This thought had laced through his mind ever since the deadly green light sprung from his professor’s wand. He knew long before Dumbledore’s death that he would be killed if he failed his mission. Back then, he was so eager, so hopeful and optimistic. He tried not to think of the consequences if he failed; he felt invincible. Now, he was worn out and way beyond his years. 

Draco’s mother never approved of what the Dark Lord was asking of her son. No, it was more than disapprovement, it was complete resentment. Deep down, she knew that Draco would fail. He could hear her crying in her bedroom at night ever since the mission was assigned to him. Somehow, that fuelled Draco to work harder, to prove his mother wrong. He thought maybe then she would let him make his own decisions and trust him more. What a fool he was. His life was on the line and he was worried about his independence from his mother. Only a fool would believe that he could kill the greatest wizard who ever lived. 

Draco remembered what Dumbledore had said that fateful night. “You’re not a killer, Draco.” These 5 words intermingled with the flashing green light and the thoughts of dying. Dumbledore was right; Draco was not a killer. When first assigned the mission, Draco thought that killing a man would be nothing; like taking a candy from a baby. But when the night came, he was terrified. The thought of taking candy from a baby was truly horrifying. When Dumbledore’s dead body lay in front of him, he was rooted on the spot. He wouldn’t have moved if Snape hadn’t pulled him away. Draco shivered. 

Was this really what he wanted to do with his life? Did he really want to be on the run until he was caught? _Well, I don’t really have a choice. I’m going to die anyways,_ he thought. He was only seventeen and he had his whole life ahead of him; he hadn’t even finished school yet. Not like he would ever be able to finish now.

He remembered when he was just seven years old and he wanted to be just like his father; strong, powerful and intelligent. _Look where that got him,_ he thought bitterly, _in prison._ When he was first given the task, there was a small voice in his head telling him that the Dark Lord was doing this to get revenge on his father. But Draco had quickly quashed that voice and told himself that he was chosen for this job because the Dark Lord believed in him. What a fool.

He wondered now what would have happened had he chosen to take up Dumbledore’s offer. If he came to the “right” side, he would be more than a disgrace among his family, friends and all the Slytherins. He would be disowned from his family and the Dark Lord would have punished his parents for his disloyalty. His friends would have without a doubt abandoned him and he would not have been accepted amongst the many Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. 

But no matter how hard it would have been to cross the line over to the good side, Draco felt a tinge of regret in his gut. He wondered what it would have been like if he had taken the old man’s hand. If he just put down his wand and let go. If only he was strong enough to be weak. He was a fool.

The thought of crossing sides intermingled with thoughts of Harry Potter; his number one sworn enemy since the first trip to Hogwarts. What would have happened if he became friends with the Harry Potter? He was the _Boy who Lived_ , the _Living Legend_ , the _One_ , if you will. Even after enduring events such as these, Draco was _still_ jealous of the famous Harry Potter. He was always _rewarded_ for breaking the school rules; he was _favoured_ because of a ridiculous scar on his forehead. Despite the situation, Draco couldn’t help but sneer at the dorky glasses on his face and how girls seemed to throw themselves at the geeky Gryffindor. 

And of course, wherever the _Boy who Lived_ went, his faithful companions were close behind; the Weasel and the Mudblood. How he hated that trio. 

“We should go in, Draco,” said the voice of his professor from beside him.

Draco gulped and nodded. He was scared, of course, but he was suddenly overcome with a new feeling. Hate. He hated that this—creature—inside the house was behind all of this. He hated _it_ more than Harry Potter, Granger and Weasley intermingled into one. The Dark Lord was the one behind the arrest of his father and the stress of his mother. Soon, he would also be behind Draco’s death. This creature was the one who caused the hardships in the Wizarding World and the deaths of so many. If he was so gracious and loving to his followers, why was it that so many of them ended up dead? How is it that he could kill so many without a second thought? Really, what was so great about this Dark _Lord?_ Why did he think that he could boss everyone around and that he was better than everyone? Wasn't he supposed to be a half-blood himself? Wasn't he just like them? What gave him the RIGHT?

Draco fisted his hands and clenched his jaw. A sudden anger raced through his body and aimed towards the thing that called himself _Lord Voldemort_. This anger he was feeling was so intense and foreign to him that he could barely control it. He didn’t know what was coming over him, but he had the sudden urge to go and kill that man. He wanted to squeeze the life out of his red slit eyes. His heart beat faster and adrenaline pumped through his veins. 

“Come, Draco.”

Draco followed Snape into the house. The door creaked as it opened but Draco was not intimidated. A smell of decay entered his nose as the two walked deeper into the house. 

Why was he feeling like this? He felt reckless and irrational; he definitely wasn’t thinking straight. All his life he was taught that muggle-borns and half-bloods were not worthy; that purebloods were the only true wizards. “Mudblood” was a part of his daily vocabulary as a child. He was taught to hate anything other than Slytherins and that the Dark Lord Voldemort was the icon to look up to. As a child, Dumbledore was not a source of comfort and delight, but a subject of hate and resentment. Now, he missed the old man and that annoying twinkle in his eye. In that moment, he forgot all that his parents told him and now only wished them the best. He felt like a whole other person; strange, yet somehow familiar. 

Snape guided Draco up the soggy wooden steps and into a strange hallway. Old tapestries rotted on walls that were the colour of tar. The atmosphere was dark, grim and tense. Draco’s hate only grew more intense as they approached the dark room at the end of the hall. 

The hallway seemed to go on forever but finally, Snape stopped before the door. He moved aside and motioned for Draco to enter. Draco knocked sharply on the closed door. His face was set into a hard glare focused at the person on the opposite side of the door. 

“Enter, Draco.” The cold voice beckoning him inside chilled his bones, but he maintained a hard face. He didn’t give his professor a last look as he opened the door. 

There was a slow creaking noise as Draco entered the room and he once again went over his thoughts of killing the Dark Lord in his mind. 

“You cannot kill me, boy. Only a fool would think of such a thing.” A crude, cold laughter pierced through his heart and he was blinded by a flash of green light. 

**A/N: Hello, how'd you like it? This is a section of what I'd think is going to happen in the seventh book of HP. It was written for Cycle 11 in Scrivenshaft Challenge.**

**REVIEW! XD.**


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